


come morning light (you'll be alright)

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Timeline Fic, bonrin if you squint, okumura rin vs. the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 12:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15436878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: Rin never learned how to mourn properly.Which is kind of a miscalculation on Shiro's part, probably, because it feels like all Rin's been doing now is mourning.For all the things he's lost, and all the things he can never have again. For all the things he's lost, and will continue to lose.





	come morning light (you'll be alright)

**Author's Note:**

> *canon-compliant for the most part, covers up to the most recent illuminati/betrayal arc  
> *except i stretched that part out so these kids can have a bit of a breather bc it was reminding me of ffxv where they literally get on a train and it's just full speed ahead choo-choo like. no. let them process the trauma a bit pls  
> *very vague spoilers about certain characters is what i'm saying  
> *minimal yukio because he scares the heck out of me (top ten anime betrayals but yukio is, like, nine of them. shima is the last one)

 

You don’t know how to mourn.

Shiro and the other exorcists at the monastery taught you many things, but grieving isn’t one of them. A child has no need for such lessons. And you were very good at being a carefree child. 

Looking back now, Shiro and everyone probably wanted you to remain a child as long as you could. They always knew time was running out for you. That you would be forced to grow up too soon.

Just like Yukio.

Too bad that, for all their foresight, they didn’t think you would need to know how to do this. Because ever since that day, ever since the end of the world as you knew it, you’ve been in mourning. 

For all the things you’ve lost, and would never have again.

For all the things you’ve lost, and would continue to lose.

 

 

 

 

The old dorms are quiet during the weekends. Almost eerily so. 

Rin rolls over, blinking awareness back into his eyes. Yukio’s bed is empty and neatly made. Of course, he’s out. He almost always is. Not that Rin blames him. Yukio  _ is  _ a proper exorcist, after all, and Rin is... not a burden, exactly. That’s too harsh. But maybe a stain on Yukio’s tidy and colour-coded schedules. 

He yawns, jaw wide and tail twitching. It’s a beautiful Sunday, and he has no plans. Homework doesn’t count. He can hear the city bustling outside his window. For a few minutes, he contemplates rolling over again and going back to sleep. But then he’ll just feel more guilty later on. And Yukio will be so disappointed, more than he is already.

The halls are still and silent. Not even the lesser demons are out and about. Rin isn’t too proud to admit it’s a little lonely. He enters the kitchen, sleep still hovering at the edge of his mind. There’s a note from Yukio, but all it says is  _ I’ll be back late. Don’t need dinner. Don’t wait up. _ Rin can feel his tail drooping behind him.

“Whatever,” he says to the empty kitchen. “That dumbass Yukio is missing out! I’m going to make chicken kaarage tonight and he won’t get any!”

He’s just pulling out the pans to make himself a big breakfast when there’s a knock down the hall, and a familiar voice calling out his name.

“Shiemi,” he says, surprised. “Uh, Yukio’s not here, if you’re looking for him.”

She beams at him. “That’s okay, I was looking for you, anyway!”

“M-Me?” Rin scratches his head, willing himself not to blush too hard. “What for?”

“I thought, um, I thought maybe we could... study together?”

“Study?”

Shiemi holds up the books she was carrying. “Since we’ll have tests again soon, and we both did pretty badly last time. I thought maybe two brains are better than one?”

She looks so earnest that Rin can’t help but smile at her. “Yeah, sure. You hungry? I just woke up so I was going to whip up something. I can make some for you, too.”

“Oh, thank you, Rin!”

“It’s no problem.”

Cooking for another person never fails to lift his spirits. Rin takes special care with Shiemi’s omelette. He watches her carefully as he settles down into his own seat. Her movements are regal as always, but as she takes the first bite, her eyes close and she lets out a noise of contentment.

“Is it good?” Rin asks eagerly.

Shiemi nods. “It’s wonderful, Rin! You’re really an amazing cook.”

Rin waves it off, but he’s blushing. He smiles into his own omelette, and allows the warmth of sharing a meal with someone to spread through his body like a gentle wildfire.

 

 

 

 

Befriending Kuro was both a blessing and a curse. 

His sadness and betrayal at Shiro’s passing throbs like a sore in your chest. Kuro isn’t one to linger on negative feelings, but you can feel them hanging around like timid ghosts, unwilling to leave. These sour pangs echo your own hurt, and you find yourself thinking of Shiro more often. Thinking of Shiro is painful. It makes your breaths hitch and your throat close up and your eyes sting. It makes you want to hide, to hole up in your bed like you used to when you were younger and small enough to crawl into Shiro’s lap when you had nightmares. It’s been so long since then. And it was always Yukio that took the initiative to find Shiro after waking violently from a bad dream. 

Yukio is grieving, too. But you don’t understand the way he mourns. He throws himself into school, into teaching, into missions. He fusses and worries over you. He doesn’t mention Shiro, and as far as you know, hasn’t been to visit Shiro’s grave since the funeral. Yukio is grieving, too, but you don’t know how to help him.

You’re so afraid he’ll confirm what you already know:  _ it’s all your fault. _ Shiro died protecting you. Yukio had to learn how to be responsible and become mature because of you. It’s all because of you.

You don’t know how to move on from this grief when you’re not even sure you have the right to mourn.

 

 

 

 

“Aarghhh, I don’t get it!” Rin groans, dropping his head onto his notebook. “I keep getting the same answer, and it’s still the wrong one!”

“Read the question again,” Suguro tells him, “carefully, this time.”

“I’m trying!” Rin slaps his palms down on the textbook. “It’s not working.”

Suguro sighs. He closes the book he was reading and leans over the table. “D’you want me to read it for ya?”

Pressing his hands together, Rin gives him a hopeful smile. “Please?”

His response is an eye roll, but Suguro pulls the textbook closer and begins to read anyway.

Studying with Suguro is different than studying with Shiemi. It’s quieter, more focused. It’s different than studying with the rest of the Exwires. There’s less chance of veering off topic, and Rin has more opportunities to ask questions that he should know by now, but doesn’t, because he’s stupid. It’s different than studying with Yukio. Suguro is more patient, and he dumbs down the examples until Rin understands. Rin likes studying with the others, but he thinks he likes studying with Suguro the best.

“—make sense?” Suguro is asking.

Rin nods. He squints down at his notes. He’s mostly learned how to cope with his dyslexia by now, but doing homework is still a pain. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

“More like many,” Suguro grumbles, but there’s none of the bite from when they first met.

“I’ll make you katsudon as thanks!”

“Now you’re just bribin’ me.”

“I really gotta pass this class or else Yukio will give me the stink-eye again!”

“You and your brother are really nothing alike, huh.”

Rin shrugs. He erases his answer and tries again. “Yukio is good at everything. I’m just an idiot with ridiculously bad luck.”

“You’re not an idiot, Okumura.”

“Hah?”

Suguro is watching him, something quiet and unreadable in his gaze. Rin tightens his grip on his pencil without noticing. Those dark eyes feel heavy on his skin. Rin’s tail twitches. He has a sudden urge to run, but he can’t move.

“You’re stupid,” says Suguro, and he continues before Rin can do more than scowl, “you follow your impulses, you’re terrible with instructions, and you think with your heart rather than your head. But that doesn’t make you an idiot. You care about people a whole effin’ lot, and everything you do is because of that. You notice things that we don’t bother to because you care. You refuse to give up because you care. I think that’s inspiring.”

Rin stares at him. For a moment, he stops thinking of himself as a failure. For a moment, he almost feels like he’s someone worthy of standing next to his brother, to his friends.

“Aww,” he says, recovering. He lifts his hands to cover his face. “That’s so sweet of you, Suguro-kun. Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Shut up,” Suguro growls. “Hurry up and finish this, it’s due tomorrow, ain’t it?”

The spell was broken, but Rin turns back to his homework with a tiny smile on his face. He doesn’t do so badly, the rest of that night.

 

 

 

 

Blue was your favourite colour. It was, before everything went to shit and all you thought you knew was revealed to be complete and utter bullshit. 

Now, this cursed blue has torn your carefully rebuilt heart open again. The flames don’t hurt you, they barely even feel warm to you. But everyone backs away as if you’re scorching their skin with just a glance. There is a line between you and the friends you painstakingly made. There is a chasm between you and your brother. 

But it’s been there all along, hasn’t it? You were just choosing not to see it, choosing blind optimism over the miserable reality your life has become. 

You haven’t even properly mourned for Shiro and now you’re mourning the loss of the bonds you thought you shared with your friends. 

They look at you like you’re a ticking bomb. Izumo is disgusted by your lies, Shima won’t meet your eyes. Konekomaru and Shiemi’s gaze is filled with fear. And Suguro looks at you with deep, dark betrayal.

But Yukio. You’ve always found disappointment in those eyes, but there was always some sort of fondness, no matter how exasperated or concerned. Now—and you’re terrified with the fact that you can’t remember when it started—now, he looks at you like you’re a tragedy in the making.

 

 

 

 

The inn is large and the layout sprawling enough that it’s not hard for Rin to disappear. He climbs onto the roof and sits there, eyes on the horizon. Everyone else is busy. Helping out, learning. Avoiding Rin.

He doesn’t blame them. If he could, he’d avoid himself, too.

Rin’s never minded the quiet. He’s a restless soul, but he finds solace in comfortable silences. Good for taking a nap in, they are. But this quiet, this mutedness removed from everyone else he’s supposed to be working with, it stings. 

_ Rin, _ Kuro says, crawling into his lap.  _ Why are you hiding? _

“I’m not hiding,” Rin protests automatically. “I’m just... taking a break.”

_ I’ll take a break with you, then! _

Patting the demon’s head, Rin murmurs, “Thanks, Kuro.”

It’s still too quiet up here, quiet enough that all the thoughts Rin has been avoiding has come out to play. He doesn’t belong here. Trespassing into Suguro’s family, pretending to be a wannabe exorcist. The only reason he’s here is because it’s easier to keep an eye on him. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” he tells the sunset.

“Fuck do you mean,” a familiar voice says from behind him. It’s Shura, clambering over the shingles to sit next to him. This part of the roof hasn’t been scorched by his flames. Yet. He destroys everything he touches eventually.

“I’m not doing anything,” Rin says wearily. “Go back to drinking the others under the table.”

“Nah,” says Shura. She grins as she hooks an arm around Rin’s shoulders and ruffles his hair. “I wanna spend some time with my trouble kid.”

“I’m not your kid!”

“But you are trouble.”

Rin shoves her away. He doesn’t bother fixing his hair. “I know that.”

The pause after that makes him uncomfortable. He stares out stubbornly at where the sun is disappearing steadily. The weight of Shura’s calculating gaze on him is heavy.

“Hey, kid,” she says eventually. “I know things suck for you right now—don’t snort at me, you little shit—but don’t feel like you have to hide away from us. You may be half demon, but before that, you’re half human. You got that?”

“Everyone’s scared of me,” Rin blurts out.

“Yeah, they’re fucking idiots. Who’d be scared of a little brat like you?”

“I’m not a brat!”

“I’m serious, Rin.” Shura smells like booze and mint and that citrus-y scent that Rin can never figure out if it’s her deodorant or shampoo or perfume or something else entirely. But her eyes are unwavering when he meets them. “If you need to talk to somebody, talk. I know I’m busy running around cleaning up other people’s messes but you’re like family to me. I’m here for you. Hell, talk to Yukio. He’s dumb about emotions but he’s your brother. Those little Exwire brats, too—they’re confused now but you’re their friend. That’s not something a little demon blood should change.”

Rin wants to believe her. The look in her eyes, the proud tilt to her chin—it reminds him so much of Shiro. She was close to him, too. Rin wonders how she’d mourned for Shiro, if she was still mourning for him.

He wonders if she would mourn for Rin.

“You understand me?” Shura is asking.

Rin ducks his head, averts his eyes. “Yeah,” he lies.

She’s too smart to believe him, but she doesn’t say anything else. They stay there on the roof until the last of the sunlight disappears, and Kuro jerks awake on Rin’s lap. It’s still quiet, but Rin doesn’t feel so empty anymore.

 

 

 

 

Your flames are going to be the death of you, but you refuse to let it be the death of anyone else, ever again.

Suguro’s father is still here. Alive. Doing his all to keep his loved ones safe. He reminds you of the quiet determination that Shiro possessed, the way he’d show you a smile to keep you from worrying while he held up the world by his shoulders, never once complaining about the weight.

So why did Suguro act like he was mourning for his father already?

You don’t understand. You don’t want to understand. All you know is that you don’t want to see him make the same mistakes you did. All your life, you’ve been making mistakes and losing. Always losing. Losing what you had before you even realized you should cherish it. Suguro isn’t like that. He’s a good person. He deserves better than that.

You’d risk your life over and over if it meant no one else would have to mourn for anyone else ever again.

 

 

 

 

It’s the weekend and the height of the tourist season here in Kyoto. Rin scrolls through his phone’s camera roll. It’s almost filled already, full of dumb pictures with his friends—they’re friends again!—and every single one brings a smile onto his face. 

It’s been a while since he’s felt this happy.

“Oi, here.”

Rin grunts when something cold is shoved against his cheek. He grabs the bottle of iced tea and looks up. “Thanks, Suguro,” he says.

Suguro grunts back at him. He sits down on the steps next to Rin. They stare down at the crowds of tourists passing by and snapping pics of the shrine grounds. The sun is bright today, and it feels good on Rin’s skin.

“I never got the chance,” Suguro says, breaking the comfortable silence, “but I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“About my dad and me. I really wanted to slug you a good one back then, but what you said was right. We were both thinking and worrying about the sect and each other by ourselves, which was counterproductive.”

Rin tilts his head. “I don’t really get it, but I was just mad that you guys could have just listened to each other a bit more, and instead you were avoiding each other. I was scared it might be too late for you, too. Sorry for yelling, though. It really wasn’t any of my business.”

“Nah. If you weren’t there, we probably would have never spoken to each other again.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Yeah.” Suguro leans his elbows on his knees and drops his head into his hands. “So, thanks for being an impulsive dumbass.”

Rin squints at him. “That sounds more like an insult than thanks.”

“Take what you can get, ya loser.”

“How’s your dad, though?”

“Better. He’s tough, my old man. Frustratingly tough, but I guess I got that from him, too.” Suguro sends him a sideways glance. “Listen, I don’t wanna pry or make you uncomfortable or whatever, but... If you ever wanna talk about—anything, uh. I’m here to listen, I guess.”

“... Suguro?”

“Or my old man, if you don’t wanna talk to me. Just thought I’d offer, y’know, ‘cause you helped us out and all, and you don’t seem to talk about yourself like that very often.”

Rin blinks. “I don’t?”

“Nah. Okumura-sensei is the same, so maybe it’s a family thing, huh.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

Rin stares back down at the people milling about. He can see Shiemi dragging along a less enthusiastic Izumo towards the vendors selling trinkets and hair accessories, and there’s Shima and Konekomaru buying more fried squid than they can hold. He knows what Suguro just offered him is something special, something more than he deserves. And it’s true, he’s not good at talking about important things like his feelings. Weird, considering he seems to have no problem talking about anything else. It wasn’t like anyone really wanted to hear it.

But Suguro is right. Yukio never talks about his feelings. Yukio doesn’t really talk to him much about anything anymore. Only mission details and asking about his studies. Nothing real. 

Ah. He’s not doing a very good job of being an older brother, is he?

“Hey,” Suguro says. Rin jerks up to look at him. There’s a crease in Suguro’s forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Rin says. He stands up, dusting off his shorts. “C’mon, let’s go help out Koneko-chan with the fried squids!”

“Okumura.”

Rin shoots him the brightest grin he’s capable of at the moment. “Really. Thanks, Suguro. I’ll keep what you said in mind.”

Suguro is still looking at him with an expression Rin can’t read. But all he says is, “Okay,” so they leave the unsaid things hanging between them like a swinging thread for another day. 

 

 

 

 

There are fresh flowers on Shiro’s grave. You don’t bother entertaining the idea of it being Yukio.

When was the last time Yukio looked you in the eyes?

“Hey, dad,” you say, and then you stop.

He has to be tired of your apologies by now. Sorrys don’t fix anything, anyway. He taught you that. You can’t just  _ say _ you’re sorry. You have to show that you mean it. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you confess instead. “I’m following their rules and I’m trying, goddamit, I really am, but, dad... What if you were wrong about me?”

You don’t know how to be good. Not like Yukio. But these days, when you look at him, you almost don’t recognize him. Sometimes, when you look at him, you see a stranger looking back. And it’s wrong, this Yukio. You know he doesn’t need you to protect him, but it scares you, how he seems to be drifting further apart from you every single day.

You’ve already lost your father, your home. You don’t think you have the strength to mourn for your brother, too.

 

 

 

 

Rin still seeks refuge on rooftops, far away from everyone else. Still visible to all the eyes on him, but distant enough he can pretend he’s alone.

Funny how he’s almost always surrounded by people now and yet he’s never felt more alone.

As if sensing the downward spiral his thoughts have turned into, Kuro paws at his legs. Rin scratches behind his ears idly. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, but even to his ears, it sounds hollow. It’s true, though. Rin’s good at taking care of himself. It’s the one thing he can do to make things easier for everyone else.

He lets his feet dangle over the side of the dormitory roof, eyes closed as he tilts his face to feel the slight breeze in his hair. He’s just considering lying down and taking a nap when he hears someone scrambling onto the roof behind him.

“Okumura! Don’t do it!”

Rin startles, flailing backwards onto the rooftop while Kuro hisses beside him. There’s a clatter behind them, and then strong arms are latched around his middle and hauling him backwards. He lands on his ass a good distance away from the edge.

“What was that for?” he whines at Suguro, rubbing at his butt where there’s definitely a bruise now.

“Do you know how high up we are?” Suguro demands.

Rin blinks at him. He glances at Kuro, and then over to where he was sitting before. He looks back at Suguro. “Were you worried I was going to jump?”

Suguro turns red, but his scowl doesn’t fade. “So what if I was? Can’t I be worried about my friend?”

A smile twitches at Rin’s lips. “Thanks, man. But you don’t need to worry. I’ve survived worse falls, anyway, heights won’t kill me.”

“But something else might.”

Rin shrugs. He keeps his eyes forwards as Suguro sits down carefully next to him. “What are you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d stop by.” Suguro pauses, and Rin can feel his eyes on him. “How are you doing?”

“If they sent you here to check if I’ve broken house arrest, just say it.”

“There’s no ‘they,’ Okumura. I told you, you’re my friend and I’m worried about you.”

“There’s no need to be worried about me.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Okumura—”

“It’s not, don’t waste your time—”

“How is it wastin’ my time?”

Rin throws up his hands. “You have better things to do! Like worrying about Shima!”

Suguro flinches at that, and guilt stabs through Rin. Ever since the school festival, the Exwires have never been the same. The hard-earned friendship that Rin was so proud to have has been shattered into pieces. All of them are headed in different directions, and Rin knows they need to, eventually, but this feels too soon. He’s just started to accept himself, and to allow others to accept himself, flames and all.

“Listen,” Suguro says, voice low. “I don’t know what kind of half-baked thoughts you got in that thick skull of yours, but I told you before and I’ll tell you again. I consider you a friend and I’m gonna treat you as such. And right now, I think you need someone else’s company other than that demon cat of yours.”

“Shut up,” Rin says, but there’s no heat to it. He pulls his knees up and buries his face in the crook of his elbow. “No one asked you.”

“Hey. Shima’s like a brother to me, you know? But you... Oku—Yukio, Yukio  _ is  _ your brother, and now he’s—”

“Shut up!”

“Okumura—”

“I just—I just don’t get it! He had  _ everything _ —he’s smart and he’s capable and he’s a great exorcist, and everyone loves him and looks up to him, and he just—” Tiny pricks of pain shoots down Rin’s arms as his fingers dug in through his hoodie. His eyes are stinging, so he scrunches up his face. “Was I so self-centered that I couldn’t see his struggling? What kind of a brother am I if I didn’t even know he felt that way, about himself, about  _ me _ —”

Suguro sighs. “None of us knew, okay, and we consider ourselves his friends, too.”

“I want to help him,” says Rin, “but he never frickin’ talks to me, I don’t know  _ how. _ I thought he was just, stubbornly independent, you know? I thought, if I waited, if I didn’t push him, he’d come to me eventually. I’m his brother. I’m supposed to be the one he’s closest to, and I still managed to fuck that up.”

“You didn’t fuck it up.”

“Tell that to Yukio and the fucking Illuminati.”

“He made that choice, Okumura, not you—”

“Did you know I killed our dad?”

Suguro sucks in a breath. “What—”

“My demon side awakened earlier than it was supposed to, and Satan managed to possess our old man. He sacrificed himself in order to save me. I watched him die in front of me. And Yukio found us there right after.”

His confession is met with shocked silence. Rin doesn’t blame him. What else is there to say?

“I’ve thought about that ever since,” he continues, watching the trees swaying gently in the distance. “Every time, every single time I mess things up, someone else is there to clean up my mess. Yukio, usually. I should be dead three times over by now, but I’m not. Someone else always sticks out their neck for me. And for what? What good am I alive? All I do is cause problems for everyone.

“But Shiro, he risked everything to save me and Yukio. I don’t know why, but. He raised me as a human and told me to run. To live. I can’t get over this guilt but that’s his dying wish. I don’t care what happens as long as I can honour that wish. I swore that I wouldn’t let his death be in vain.” Rin takes in a shaky breath. There’s a lump in his throat now. He swallows hard. 

“Yukio probably blames me for Shiro’s death,” he says. “I think I always knew that some part of him hates me. I guess, I just thought—I thought if I tried hard enough, I could change his mind. But none of that matters anymore.”

“Okumura...”

Rin shakes his head. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling something wet leaking down his face. “He wasn’t supposed to have the flames. He shouldn’t have them, he doesn’t—he doesn’t deserve to suffer like this, he doesn’t deserve to suffer more than he has already—”

“Are you saying that you do?”

Startled by the genuine anger in Suguro’s voice, Rin jerks his head up. Suguro is glaring at him, but instead of the usual hostility or annoyance that Rin is used to, there’s a deeper emotion burning in those dark eyes. Rin is afraid to look too closely to figure out what it is.

“You also lost a father, you know that,” Suguro says. “And you were thrown into this world of exorcists and demons that you had no idea of before your awakening, right? Yukio should have been helping you, he should have talked to you, but instead he just left you to fend for yourself. Don’t lie to me, you’ve been by yourself all this time.”

“I’m not—”

“I know, because I abandoned you, too.”

Rin shuts his mouth. He can’t deny that. When he thinks about that time after he first revealed his true self to his friends, only to watch as they turned their backs on him, it still hurts like an old wound torn back open. He tried his best not to think about it.

“But not anymore,” says Suguro. His eyes don’t leave Rin’s face. There’s an intensity there that is almost too much to look at. “You shouldn’t have to suffer for what Satan did, either. You shouldn’t have to suffer alone, Rin.”

His tail twitches at the use of his first name. But tears are spilling over his cheeks again, and he reaches up to swipe at them with his sleeves. Then, Suguro’s arms are around him, unceremoniously tugging him against Suguro’s chest.

“Wha—”

“Shush,” Suguro says, using a hand to push Rin’s head into his shoulder. “It’s okay to cry, Rin. It’s okay to grieve for what you’ve lost.”

Rin’s an ugly crier. He knows, because Shiro always teased him for it. Yukio was usually the crybaby, so Rin had made sure to learn how to smile and laugh to cheer his brother up. But when he cried, it’s big, snotty tears and loud, chest-heaving sobs that wouldn’t stop until he’s all cried out and on the verge of falling asleep. 

He buries his face against Suguro’s shirt and probably ruins it, but Suguro doesn’t loosen his arms. He just holds Rin and lets him weep as loudly as he needs to on that rooftop. There’s a soft warmth curled around his feet. Kuro, always offering comfort even though Rin never asked for it.

He doesn’t know how to deserve this.

But he wants to believe he does.

“I miss him,” he mumbles into Suguro’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Suguro says back. “I know.”

It’s a long while before they climb back down from the roof, and if Rin’s eyes are red-rimmed or Suguro needs to borrow a new shirt, no one else is around to know. The old dorms are lonelier without Yukio around, but when the rest of Rin’s friends show up in the cafeteria for dinner, the ache growing root in Rin’s ribcage loosens, just a little.

 

 

 

 

 

You’re not very good at grieving. 

There are too many things to mourn, nowadays. It didn’t used to be this way. Sometimes, you find yourself wondering if it will always be this way from now on.

But when your thoughts take that darker turn, Kuro is there, nudging at your legs to get back on track. Shiemi is there, reminding you that who you are has nothing to do with what others tell you to be. Izumo is there, waiting with you to climb back to your feet. Konekomaru is there, believing the best in you. And Suguro is there, reaching out a hand and unwilling to leave until you’re holding on and moving forwards again.

And somewhere out there, Yukio is there, waiting for you to catch up.

Mourning is a process you’re just beginning to learn. It’s not easy. It won’t ever be easy. But you’re strong, you’re stupidly stubborn, and you’ve got so much left to fight for. To live for.

So you roll out of bed in the morning, put on your clothes. The silence still bites at your ankles when you let your guard down. But you know how to hum. You meet the eyes of your reflection in the mirror, and smile. Your friends are waiting.

The sadness doesn’t ever really fade away, but the hurt will become a little less. After mourning, comes the process of healing. 

And you’re well on your way to believing.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> listen. i know sometimes it can be really difficult to feel like you deserve good things, but you do. you're trying so hard, and i'm so proud of you. take care of yourself. i'll believe in you enough for the both of us until you're ready to believe, too. you're not alone.
> 
> catch me crying about one half-demon disaster boi @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter


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